Inhuman Garbage

Inhuman Garbage

By Kristie Kathryn Rusch (excerpt)

Getting the crime scene unit to a warehouse outside of the dome took more work than Ethan Broduer liked to do. Fortunately, he was a deputy coroner, which meant he couldn’t control the crime scene unit. Someone with more seniority had to handle requisitioning the right vehicle from the Police Department yards outside the dome, and making certain the team had the right equipment.

Broduer came to the warehouse via train. The ride was only five minutes long, but it made him nervous.

He was born inside the dome, and he hated leaving it for any reason at all, especially for a reason involving work. So much of his work had to do with temperature and conditions, and if the body had been in an airless environment at all, it had an impact on every aspect of his job.

He war relieved when he arrived at warehouse and learned that the body had never gone outside of an Earth Normal environment. However, he was annoyed to see that he would be working with Noelle DeRicci.

She was notoriously difficult and demanding, and often asked coroners to redo something or double-check their findings. She’d caught him in several mistakes, which he found embarrassing.

Then she had had the gall to tell him that he should probably double-check all of his work, considering its shoddy quality.

She stood next to a crate, the only one of thousands that was open. She was rumpled – she was always rumpled – and her curly black hair looked messier than usual.

When she saw him approach, she glared at him.

“Or, lucky me,” she said.

Broduer bit back a response. He’d been recording everything since he got off the train inside the warehouse’s private platform, and he didn’t want to show any animosity toward DeRicci on anything that might go to court.

“Just show me the body and I’ll get to work,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows at the word “work,” and she didn’t have to add anything to convey her meaning. She didn’t think Broduer worked at all.

“My biggest priority at the moment is an identification,” DeRicci said.

And his biggest priority was to do this investigation right. But he didn’t say that. Instead he looked at the dozen of crates spread out before him.

“Which one am I dealing with?” he asked, pleased that he could sound so calm in the face of her rudeness.

She placed a hand on the crate behind her. We was pleased to see that she wore gloves. He had worked with her partner Rayvon Lake before, and Lake had to be reminded to follow any kind of procedure.